Diving for Gold
by Master of Shiawase Punch
Summary: Death doesn't always have to be simply seen as something that happens to everyone, or as something emotionally painful. Some things happen for a reason, & not everyone goes in vain. Fate has something to teach when one of the Straw Hat pirates passes. R


Another tale of greatness. That is, if you enjoy reading stories with poor writing skills put into them. I'm never satisfied with anything, I tell you. NOTHING!

Anyway, this story is short so I'm giving nothing away. Just laying down some informational stuff. Hopefully you'll get something out of this. That IS the point of all my writing. It's not just meant to entertain you (although that's the main idea...).

All One Piece based, as usual.

And a strong usage of the characteristics of realism and naturalism, as usual. There is cussing and the use of the Lord's name in vain. That stuff happens, face it. I'm not saying it should (although I sometimes let God's name slip, but it's RARE) but reality means that a lot of things happen that shouldn't.

Everyone is in character.

There is no yaoi or yuri involved. No shounen/shoujo-ai either. In basic essence, NO HOMOSEXUALITY, thank you.

This story has violence and maybe some grotesquely detailed descriptions. Actually, it's not bad at all. I personally think I should have been extremely morbid and disgusting. I'll just say that to those who get woozy at a paper cut...If you are that kind of person and you're reading this, you might as well just beat it because you're a moron anyway. But I rated it T just in case, you know...

Another word: there is some intense writing near the middle and the end-ish. If you find yourself reeling at the bigger paragraphs (I know I would do that...), please stop and finish another time. I don't want half-hearted reviews and people who just didn't get the jist of this thing. In fact, if you don't read it thoroughly, please say so if you review. I won't put much weight on your review in terms of me improving my writing...get it? Thanks.

I personally hate this story. It makes me sick to read it, literally. Because I already know what happens and I don't like it. It's just annoying. But maybe you'll enjoy.

READ AND REVIEW, DANG YOU.

---Ken

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The Going Merry bobbed gently against the small swells that the South Blue imposed upon the tiny caravel, its anchor holding it carefully at the port of Jea, a medium-sized urban city known for its expansive selection of brand name and novelty items. The humidity and atmospheric pressure warranted incoming storms, but all other signs pointed to "Go!" for a day in the city. Sanji quickly took inventory of the pantry, as Nami passed out money rations to the other crew members.

"You only get this much spending money, so don't waste it."

The crew shared similar looks of anger and disappointment at their equal but meager allotments, but no one complained against the navigator's decision. Sanji ran quickly from the kitchen down to the main deck amidst his fellow crew members.

"I only need a few inexpensive ingredients, so 1000 Berries should be enough." He caught his breath, and sight of Nami, and instinctively smiled. "...Miss Nami."

"That's 500 more than we all get, that's not fair," Zolo grumbled. "He should get the same as us."

"His purpose for money is to buy food for the ship, not to squander it on frivolous crap, as you all do." She glared quickly at Zolo, Usopp, and Luffy before counting out Sanji's portion.

"Oh, Nami, you've adopted a word of my speech! You really shouldn't though, I have a trashy vocabulary," Sanji said, folding his hands and smiling. "No words for a goddess like you!"

"Yet you use them around her daily, Magic Brow..." Zolo growled, snatching his money before Luffy could finger it. Sanji sneered.

"Stop fighting and go spend your hearts out." Nami ran her fingers through her hair and walked to the mast, preparing to descend into the men's quarters. Sanji looked at her confusedly as the rest of the crew walked down the gangplank to the pier.

"Nami, aren't you going to town?"

"I'm going to clean this room once and for all," she said confidently. "The reek from it has started to permeate into my room, and I don't want to stink like corn chips and dirty laundry." She threw a bucket and a few rags down the hole into the room as Sanji laughed.

"Oh, Nami dearest, I won't let you miss out on the fun of town to clean that disgusting room!" He bounded forward and circled his way around her, preventing her from climbing down the mast ladder. "I'll clean it for you, no problem."

"I'm surprised you can even live down there...I thought _you_ were clean at least."

"I have been taking up residency in the galley as of late, Princess." He gently clasped one of her hands in his and pulled her to his side. She tried weakly to escape his hold, but he wouldn't release her. "Come now, Nami, let's away to town. As we did mere nights ago."

"At another port..." Nami grumbled matter-of-factly. "And I didn't _away_ with you, I happened to be around when you decided to dine."

"When we danced."

"I had been drinking, you fool, get it out of your head, you love-struck imbecile." She tried to pull away again as Sanji playfully pursed his lips and tried to kiss her.

"You never get drunk, not even a little tipsy, Nami, I know. Ever since that one party where I thought I could try to convince you to sleep with me---"

"I remember all too well, Sanji!" He looked at her with kind eyes and smiled genuinely, no trace of a seductive grimace, as he let her continue to the floor hatch.

"I had only been kidding, you know."

She sighed, rolling her eyes. "Yes, now, I can't waste time. You need to go get food too. I'll just get this done..."

"How about," he dared to interrupt, racing to her side, "that I help you get this done sooner, and then we can go to town later?" Nami stared at him blankly. "Together."

"Are you trying to set up another 'date' again, Sanji?" she asked him, not being any too subtle to reference the last time he had attempted at a date. He had ended up smashed in a bar with Zolo, warring over who could finish the most pints; Nami knew it would have never worked, and had brought extra cash to go shopping by herself. But she liked it that way.

Sanji laughed and scratched the back of his head absentmindedly, blushing. "That was no date, Miss Nami! You hurt me by thinking so! I'd never let something like that pass as a date, especially between _us_. No, I'd make you a meal myself, and treat you to a dessert you've never tasted before." He stroked her chin quickly before having his hand slapped. "And we could walk the beach at some port of call, and then let our toes skim the ocean surface while sitting on the pier, eating lemon gelato, and then I'd take your empty cup and say---"

"'It seems you are finished, Miss Nami, but I'm still not satisfied,'" Nami chanted in monotone along with Sanji's squealing, knowing his planned schedule and phrases for a date that was never implemented, yet was always supposedly organized to perfection. Sanji smiled radiantly.

"---and then I'd take you into my arms, sweep you up, and you would kiss me senseless! Oh, how I wish it could be like that! Could it ever been like that, Nami-san?" He laughed at the look on Nami's face. "I'm merely playing with you, Nami."

"I know, Sanji." She climbed down the ladder carefully, grabbing a pail of water from the deck before letting the hatch close above her. She let her feet fall heavily to the wooden floor and then walked to the center of the room. "Never the real deal, that's all it ever is, playing."

"What was that, Nami-san?" Nami gasped and turned around quickly. Sanji was standing at the bottom of the ladder, his hands in his pockets. "Playing?"

"Sanji, don't do that. You scared me. I thought I told you to go to buy food."

"But Nami, I told you! I couldn't let you be all alone in this monstrous dirty tomb! I'm going to help you finish this up, if you're so adamant about getting it done."

Nami opened her mouth to retort just as a flintlock pistol was pulled, the sound reverberating through the ship. Sanji glared darkly to the starboard side, facing east, where the sound had come from.

"That was too close," Sanji growled in a low voice, his instincts automatically inclining him towards saving Nami. "Wait here, Nami."

"But---"

"I said wait here, Nami, and that's an order." His eyes were smoldering, and forced Nami to take a step back. He climbed up the ladder at three-rung intervals and shoved open the hatch. Then he disappeared.

A clamor of obscenities and whooping had started on the pier and had made its way to the top deck. Nami could presently hear the scuffling of thick boots and a couple of dropped bodies coming in contact with the wooden floorboards overhead. She didn't want to stay onboard with any sort of plunderers, and she decided to silently leave the ship to its demise just as Sanji jumped down through the ceiling door, deliberately failing to use the ladder. He was in front of her trying to hoist her into his arms before she could realize what was going on.

"Nami, Nami, we _have_ to leave now, there's a battle broken out between two---"

"Sanji, drop me, you won't make it up the ladder with me on---" she tried to explain while pulling at his arms.

"Nami, _let's GO_."

An explosive jolt to the ship sent everything in the room smashing into the port side. Nami felt herself tossed almost wantonly into the concave ship wall, her back slamming painfully into the thick wooden frame. She lost breath as Sanji simultaneously smashed into her. He quickly lifted himself up, shifting slightly to his left before sunlight and sea-spray poured into the cabin from a hole in the starboard side, almost instantly blocked out by the flying wooden beams that were shattered inward. Starboard no longer existed as the bow of another ship took its place. Amidst the eardrum-shattering crashes Nami swore she heard Sanji bellow for her to get under him just before hearing a heavy object hum past her right ear, embedding itself into the wall millimeters away. She closed her eyes tight, bowed her head, and covered her neck and head with her arms, trying to imagine a place quieter, and safer, with no ships or cacophony, and no surprise plunderers' battles.

Only a few minutes went by, but Nami felt that time had spent an eternity without her playing a part in it. She didn't think she heard anything, when she knew there were many foreign noises sounding around her. Something dripped into a puddle, something creaked. She didn't consider herself thinking of anything, but she thought of thinking, which defeated the purpose. She was in limbo.

The sound of a nervous and shallow breathing had reached her ears; she hadn't noticed it before. She stopped breathing a moment to make sure it wasn't really her without her realizing it. She removed her arms from her head and opened her eyes, staring at the floorboards. Sea water had pooled up underneath her and had soaked her clothes through. The whole place was fairly dark, but Nami noticed a steady rippling in the water puddle. She slowly looked upwards and gasped, seeing Sanji. She screamed.

A piece of shattered beam was pierced diagonally through his left side, split directly above and below his heart, courtesy of strange fate. It was jagged in strange places and had bored through his shoulder, but had completely shaved off the portions of his body that were in its path below the heart. It stabbed into the wall to Nami's right, a portion of the wood just above her shoulder, missing her by a small distance. It held him fast. A red blossom surrounded the perimeter of the wood, staining his blue shirt to make a deep disgusting shade of purple. Blood seeped into the wood grain all along the beam until pooling over all of the cracks, dripping into the sea water puddle that Nami sat in.

"Oh my God, Sanji---"

He coughed, blood spattered against her face. She looked at him in surprise, already believing him to be dead. His normally pleasant blue eyes shivered in their sockets, uncontrolled by frazzled nerves, as blood from a large gash on his forehead spilled over them. He tried to regain composure as best as he could; he usually had no trouble, but he still failed to take into account that he was held prisoner by his wooden appendage, regardless of how obvious it was. The shock hadn't cleared, he couldn't think of the present. He only managed to vomit.

"Nami, God, oh Nami, I'm so sorry," Sanji choked, breathing erratically, tears welling in his eyes. She knew he couldn't have helped it, no one could have; the pain was too strong, even for him, that his stomach could no longer hold in food undigested. She wondered if a portion of his stomach had been taken with the beam on its path to pierce the wall. The left side of his torso was missing. His tears pooled over his bottom eyelids, no longer able to brook them. Nami understood that all he was still concerned about was her well-being, that he was upset and embarrassed for vomiting on her.

"I don't care, Sanji, oh God, Sanji, Sanji, Sanji, what do we _do_?!" Nami's voice shook. She tried to remain calm, but couldn't. He was crucified, pierced completely through his body to the inner ship's wall. How his heart had been missed by the beam was not a miracle, she knew, but it seemed so lucky at the time. Later, she'd know it had been dictated that way by fate, for a reason. Sanji's mouth hung open, saliva starting to collect in his lower jaw. Nami was completely surrounded by him and random pieces of debris that had been blown to the side from the impact. His right arm caged her in on her left, the beam did likewise on her right. His knees loosely straddled her sides, her back arched against the rounded inner wall. He shakily tried to comfortably position his right hand against the ship wall, trying to prop himself, to alleviate the pain from his whole body sagging roughly along the beam. He grunted as his right arm stiffened.

"N-N-Nami...you have to get yourself out of here." He tried to keep himself from being shook by dry hacking sobs; the pain from moving any bit of the left side of his body along the wood was so intense. He only now noticed the taste of blood as it mixed in the saliva pooling around his tongue. He felt it slowly moving up his throat, into his nostrils, even more into his mouth. He realized now that his lung had been punctured. "Nami, I---I don't know how I'm living, my heart's still beating---I don't want you to see this. See me like this, I can't---I can't think. You have to get out of here." He tried to not let any liquid drool out of his mouth but couldn't help it while talking. His body shook spasmodically. "P-Please, Na...Nami, get out..."

"_I can't leave you here!_ Sanji, I can't let you go, you have to---you have to see Chopper..." She knew how stupid her words were before she even uttered them. Chopper never could help assist a wound like Sanji's to heal. 'Wound' didn't even give it justice. He was impaled, gored. The truth inundated her thinking: he wouldn't live.

She couldn't help herself. She didn't want to break in front of him; it would not only admit her feelings to him, but it would pain him more to see her upset over him. But she winced as salty tears crept into the small lesions on her cheeks. She sobbed steadily for moments, finally shaking violently from full-fledged crying, her face contorted in pure emotional pain. Her eyes burned, her cheeks hurt, her throat ached from the clenched lump in the back of it, all too typical of attempts to halt crying. He would be dead. There would be no more of the same world-renowned meals, no doting over her, no irritated glances as the goofed chef laced his speeches to her with subtle innuendo and carefully placed lechery. No more Sanji.

"No, no, no, you...I'm not leaving you here, you won't make me, you won't, you won't, you won't!" She felt like a child, but didn't care; she cried like a child, and realizing it made her cry all the harder; she decided it fitted her well though, for she loved him like a child. She constantly forgave his perversion, idiocy, and lack of attention that he gave her when around other women. He always came back, and although it bothered her at the time, she loved him all the more when he continued being amorous towards her once again. The Lost Black Sheep. The Lost Dirty Coin. The Prodigal Son of a Bitch.

"Nami, please...please don't cry---listen...l-l-listen to what I have to say. It's killing me more to see you upset than these wounds are." Nami looked up at him with watery eyes, her mouth pouting, trying to prevent another outburst. "Nami, I have to hurry. All...all of everything I've ever said to you, compliments, critiques...whatever...know please that I meant it. _Please_, please believe me...I know I've---I've---I know I've been visually, visually promiscuous---does that make sense---with other women," he coughed heavily for a few moments, more blood draining from his mouth, "...but I always, underneath, only wanted to make you jealous. I wanted to find...to see if you really felt anything for me. And I wouldn't give up. I know that sounds rotten of me, but...I had no other way of knowing...I was too embarrassed to ask." Nami breathed in a series of short sniffs, her eyes glazed as their reddened surfaces tried to moisten themselves. His speech hit her too fast, too hard. She tried to clear her mind to collect his words carefully. She had been so stubborn to herself, to deny him completely, never to admit any feelings for him. She was so intimidating sometimes, she couldn't blame him for feeling awkward to ask her anything. But it was too odd, too dramatic. How could she let anyone love her? Crew member romance? It was out of fantasy. But she felt guilty that she had failed to admit it sooner. It would have been better, she realized, to accept his love, to buy into every raving he gave to her, to participate in any passionate kiss he wished to place to her lips, or to relish any whispered serenade he had to romantically croon into her ear. All previous thoughts and memories of him flooded into her mind, how he sauntered out of the kitchen to the ship railing for a smoke, his bright blue eyes catching her in a sideways glance. He would wink and if she had smiled back, he'd blush madly and would attempt to not scramble quickly back into the kitchen: that was his first instinct, but gentlemanly composure was his second, and it won over every time. He'd appear randomly at her side while she would monitor the ship's course, dressed either in an expensive suit, or gaudily in some patterned shirt with terribly matched shoes. His pants always seemed either too wrinkled and loose, or too snug against his reed-thin legs. Either way, they made her appreciate him more, somehow, she couldn't figure why. His hands were delicately calloused from extensive cooking, but how he could fit her whole hand inside his made her forget about his rough palms brushing against her soft knuckles. She knew from one occasion especially. She'd danced with him once, she had drank, sure, and wasn't drunk, sure, but wasn't sober enough to decline his offer. "Sure"; that was how she replied to his inquiry about a dance. His smile and presentation were exceedingly seductive enough that she wondered if she would have said no even if she hadn't had anything to drink. He had an irrefutable height advantage over her, but held her against him well enough to make their dancing look professional and smooth to lookers on. He lightly helped her untrained feet to scale over the uneven stones in the patio of the restaurant they had dined in. She merely clutched lightly onto the loose material of his pale yellow oxford shirt, her curled knuckles sometimes brushing against his shoulder blades. How he had learned to dance, she didn't know. She remembered that he smelled mildly of nicotine and red wine, tomato and mint. He had put all of them into his body at some point that evening---before, during, or after dinner---and it permeated through his skin and through his clothing, which themselves smelled of cologne. He played the role of the typical man of the movies (almost purposefully) well enough that Nami almost wanted to let herself take on the role of the damsel and persuade him to make love to her and then elope afterwards, perhaps not persuade. But her senses weren't all the way clouded. She even remembered feeling ill afterwards for thinking such a thing, and decided to never drink for months, in case the opportunity presented itself again.

With no alcohol stinting her thoughts now, she realized everything. He'd be dead in moments.

"Sanji, you should have said something sooner...asked me---"

"Would you have been honest, Nami...?" He gazed down at her with a fading light in his eyes, a smile playing weakly across his pale face. Blood and spit seeped out of the corners of his mouth, little steams of the mixture trailing around his chin and down his neck. It looked almost fake, like a horror costume. The situation didn't fit with his grin. She wanted to smack it right off his face, it only added to her anger. She wouldn't have answered truthfully, she knew. She would not have let herself. But now, she wished she would have done so, if the opportunity had arisen.

"I---"

"Nami, I'm going fast, I'm trying to stop, I can't," Sanji spoke quickly and clearly, as if dictating instructions during a drill of some sort. "I want to tell you as much as I can, I'm having trouble---thinking---Nami listen, even if you don't believe me, I need to say this before I can't. Nami, Nami, I love saying your name... I was afraid of loving you, because I didn't want you to feel obligated to fall for me, I know your ways..." He convulsively tossed his head from side to side, trying to keep the blood from his head wound from flowing further down into his eyes and mouth. Nami wiped his face with the back of her hand. "You don't feel comfortable with emotion. So I never asked you, and merely played the part of an adamant fan. But now, I need to tell you that I've always admired you, and always enjoyed being around you; I felt comfortable in your presence, even though you were sometimes difficult to get along with. I---" He barred his teeth, a hissing sound issuing from behind them. His muscles tensed as pain from his left side seared through his body.

"Sanji, please, don't talk anymore, you're---" Nami tried to reason with him.

"No, N-N-Nami...I need you to hear this. And there's something I'd like before I...pass. Nami, please don't cry..." Nami shut her eyes tight, tears still managing to leak through. She couldn't believe this was happening, of all ships, it had be to theirs, this situation, to her. It didn't have to be, it could have been...prevented. The whole thing could have been prevented if she had just waited until later to clean, if she had just went to town.

"Sanji, it could have all been prevented."

"What?"

"I could have just went into town. Listened to you. We could be shopping right now, we could be picking out ingredients for meals or something! But instead I had to be a stubborn idiot and not listen! And now you're---you're _dying_! SANJI! It's all my fault! You're going to die because of me! I'm going to have to live with that!" She cried, shaking herself convulsively, trying to rid the thought from her mind.

Sanji sniffed in hard, blood trickling back down his throat. "Nami, I don't blame you, and you will _not_ blame yourself, do you hear me?" His voice changed. His eyes smoldered as they had when he ordered her to stay below in the ship before the crash. Nami listened intently. "Yes, you wanted to stay here, and that wasn't going to change. It was a fact the moment you thought and said it. But you also ordered me to go with the others. And I tossed the options around in my head. I'm not stubborn, Nami. I don't set things in stone. I merely chose to refuse, and stayed. I could have left. Don't think of it as an accident, please Nami. Accidents can be prevented. And maybe you can think...of this whole incident as preventable. But that battle would have happened, whether I had been here or not. Maybe if I hadn't been here, you would be the one with a plank through your body, dying _alone_. I would never forgive myself for having left you here alone, then finding you here dead. Consider this...that at least you're here with me, as I'm dying. I don't have to be alone. And even if it's a bit narcissistic...I want to feel that I saved you today, Nami, kept you safe. That's always been my objective. And maybe we'll both get something else out of this, after it's all said and done.

"But listen Nami. There's something else I want you to do."

"W-W----What is it, Sanji? I'll do anything," she shakily whispered. He was impaled and dying: what were the wishes of a dying man?

"I want to go against this, because it may be a little selfish, but I honestly feel that I don't care, I'm sorry, that's rude...but I really want this before I go---"

"_Anything_, Sanji. Just hurry."

"Nami, I'd like you to kiss me."

The navigator stared at him incredulously, her red eyes wide, her hands pressed solidly against the curved wall underneath and behind her. "You---you would?"

"I have nothing else to ask of you, I can no longer give you anything I once wanted to. And not even this situation can keep me from thinking of the perverted fact that I'd rather have you beneath me in different circumstances." Nami smiled sheepishly, letting out a weak laugh, which surprised herself. He still looked extremely handsome, despite his ruined state. "Nami, I constantly wondered what it would be like...to marry you. To start a family with you. When I prepared meals in the kitchen, I even imagined what our kids would look like. I named them. And I felt jealous of the man you might marry someday, if it wasn't me who wed you at the altar. I managed to...hate the villain who'd dare to steal you away from me, be better than me, potentially take my place, only to realize that I was being idiotic and selfish. It was because of my partial embarrassment that I wouldn't ask you your feelings, but also because of my constant task to be polite about your emotions. And now, I see that I was a fool..." He hung his head and sobbed; his coughing broke up a mix of some liquid in his throat with a hideous crack. He smiled again, his teeth red. "But that's just because of my unfortunate circumstances. I only have comfort now in this, Nami: that maybe it's by the words that _go unsaid_, the actions _not done_, the way things _didn't work out_, or the sufferings and mistakes and all the mishaps of others, that we, Nami, learn to manage our own lives better, and see how we all work together in ways perhaps otherwise unseen. Maybe we really should try to forgive people their wrongdoings, their misunderstandings, and give them all second chances. Maybe that's the freedom they need to be better for next time, or to just be content in knowing that everyone's content with each other. It may annoy us, but maybe it means more than just us losing things because of others' selfishness. Everything happens for a reason, in some odd order of the world. Perhaps we should look more into the things that are intangible and seemingly nonexistent. I honestly believe that now.

"Now Nami, I obviously can't force you, and I know I am in terrible shape, but I ask that you see past my selfish desires and my looks, and grant me one last wish. But I won't think any less of you if you don't. I wouldn't want to kiss someone in my condition either."

Nami smiled as Sanji tried to utter a laugh, which resulted in a coughing fit that jolted him backwards, a heinous rip sounding from his shoulder, now only loosely impaled by the beam. He screamed, causing Nami to whimper. She couldn't stop staring at the place where his left side used to be. She could see the red-white surfaces of his ribs and the shiny surfaces of some sort of organs or flesh. She tried not to look, but it was pointless.

"Sanji, ...are you..."

"I---I'm f-f-fine, Nami, just...unexpected, unexpecting, that's all..." His head started to fall forward. He was reeling from the pain now. She wouldn't have much time left.

"It's not selfish, Sanji. You deserve a lot more than a stupid kiss." She laughed slightly, a disturbingly eerie and distant laugh. "But we'll have to improvise, as we sometimes have to, right?"

She gently cupped the sides of his sweaty, blood-covered face in her hands, leaning forward to press her separated lips to his. He didn't move, he only shut his eyes. Pressing her body against his, she wrapped her left arm around his back as her right hand played with his blood stained hair, carefully avoiding the many sticky coagulated patches. She was careful not to move him any. She wanted him to thoroughly enjoy this, without much pain caused to him by her.

Sanji hesitantly opened his mouth wider, unknowing how far Nami would go to drive him to ecstasy. He had daydreamed of this moment for ages. With no change in Nami's behavior, he slid his tongue over hers, around hers, lapping quickly at her entire mouth. She did likewise, not even noticing the metallic taste of blood.

It was like a drug, as he had often imagined it. He almost forgot about their surroundings, the situation, the fact that he was dying, and would be dead soon. He hoped now that his life hadn't been lived in too much squalor. He tried to find reason and purpose in everything, but some things in life had driven him to confusion. Like women. Like Nami.

He couldn't see the purpose in living if there wasn't anything to live for afterwards. If there was nothing to look forward to, why didn't all of mankind participate in worldwide suicide, leaving nothing and no one? Everyone wouldn't know the difference: they'd be dead. No joys, and no suffering: the existence of one meant potential existence for the other. But if there wasn't anything afterwards, what was the purpose of existing in the first place?

His mind was thinking of anything and everything now. Of birth, of living, of dying. Of feelings experienced and not experienced, ones he wished he could have known, like finding All Blue, or proposing to Nami, marrying her, making love to her, growing old next to her. Dying naturally and peacefully. Or perhaps just living as he had been, before the set time in his course dictated that he be mauled, ruined, and destroyed, sentenced to die here in front of Nami. He'd never see anyone else again. They'd never be able to talk to him, nor him to them. It wasn't crew members plus Sanji, it was the collective 'crew', and that made it harder to imagine. Now, it would still be the crew. But Sanji would be gone.

And all the time he still focused on the present, something he'd never be a part of again. Nami nervously nibbled at his bottom lip, the facial hair on his chin roughly brushing against her skin. He felt ill at the fact that she could never have any feelings she had now ever again. She'd never love him in the same way. She couldn't hold him, or play in his hair, or smile awkwardly at his quirky behavior. He didn't desire to ask or fully know, but he felt she would be devastated knowing that she could never make himself or herself feel this way again.

"Nami, you don't know how badly I want to hold you right now, run my fingers through your hair," he managed to say between breaths. "I'm sorry I can't."

Nami pulled away from him, panting. She looked up at him beneath lazy eyelids.

"It's okay for me, Sanji, I understand." How could she not, given the circumstances?" I just wish you wouldn't feel unsatisfied."

"This has been good enough, Nami...thank you so much." He smiled tiredly.

"Sanji, I have some last words too. Maybe it will ease you to know that I always cared for you, always adored you and appreciated you, even if I shunned you away, really, I always did feel that way," she started to whisper, shaking her head, trying to have his gaze meet hers. His eyesight was blackening, he was unable to say anything about it, and he was inwardly screaming at his mind to pay attention. He had to hear this. He had been waiting for it. He remained silent, a stupid droll expression on his face. "I'm not just saying that...because of the situation...I just couldn't admit it then; I mean, I think the situation is forcing it out of me, but I'm not making it up. Not that...it matters much now..." She wanted to cry again. "I hope you believe me too. Because...because I believe you, Sanji. For the first time, I really can believe in someone. And I'm sorry..." She started crying again. "I'm---I'm really sorry I couldn't appreciate you better though, early on, Sanji. It's kind of too late, isn't it?" She noticed his eyes had shut and that he hadn't uttered a sound during any of her speech. She shuddered and looked into his face again. "Sanji. Sanji?" she questioned him anxiously.

"Uhm. Hmm?" His eyes fluttered open again. They looked faded and vacant, life retreating from them fast. Sanji struggled to keep them open, and his mind aware. It was like fighting off sleep while keeping the vigil on the sailing ship at night. But the result of that meant that he could awake again, even if something bad had happened during his negligence to stay alert. He didn't want to sleep now. He wanted to keep looking at Nami's big brown eyes, even if they were filled with tears. He wanted another kiss. Another chance at everything. Brawls with Zolo, Luffy, and Usopp seemed like essential routine, and he relished participation in them now. He was jealous of them all, able to continue living, without him. He knew when he passed it wouldn't matter to him anymore, but now, he felt abandoned, forsaken. He had never appreciated life so much as now.

'_I don't want to leave yet...I'm not ready!_'

"Sanji, did you hear me?"

"Yes, Nami, I really did. I...I can't use my voice, my talk...I can't talk, think. I keep drifting in and out of myself, Nami, don't let me go off, okay? I'm not ready to say bye." He said it all as a usually complacent child would if he had to leave the playground for the day's time. Nami smiled, tears flowing copiously down her face. She put her left arm around his body just beneath his, holding him up carefully, her right arm gently wrapped about his neck. His face rested gently against her right shoulder. "Don't say bye yet, Nami, don't see it as that. It's...it's all worth living again, okay?" He wanted to keep giving her advice and some sort of comfort. "Don't regret things. It's all happening the way it happens for a reason, okay? But---don't cry, Nami, okay? And don't let me leave, okay? Okay, Nami, you're listening, aren't you? Don't say goodbye, okay?"

"Okay, Sanji, okay. I won't say goodbye." She cried into his shoulder as she felt him smile against hers. She didn't say anything for a few moments, expecting him to still talk with her as he lay against her. She understood to not say goodbye now, for he'd say it before he drifted off into the next stage. He'd say it.

"Sanji, I love you." She breathed into his shoulder, waiting for his reply. He was silent. "Sanji?" She gazed forward into the dark recess of the room that was once the men's quarters, trying to hear if he was whispering anything. "Sanji? Sanji. Sanji, did you hear me?" She moved backwards, and his right arm collapsed, causing the body to slide forward along the beam. She quickly pushed him back by holding his shoulders as she maneuvered herself to fully view his face. His blonde bangs hung loosely in front of his blood-covered head, both eyes noticeably shut. A peaceful yet cruel smile still lingered on his lips. He was dead.

Nami sneered. Her face was hideous. She cursed the ship, the crew. She cursed the owners of the vessel that crashed into theirs, hoping they'd die in some horrible whirlpool or hurricane. From being crucified by their own apathetic ship beams, the wood tearing at their own stinking flesh, letting their blood dye the stagnant puddles that formed on their own brig floors. She hoped and prayed in the current instant that they would meet the cruelest fate that could befall upon anyone. Then she cursed Sanji.

"He never said it, he never said it, the damned son of a bitch. He never got to tell me he loved me!" She shook the late chef as hard as she could; the weight of his dead body was almost too much for her arms. "_Why didn't you just say it?!_ Why didn't you tell me?! I needed to hear it, and you never fully said it! You _knew_ I wanted to hear it! Only hints! HINTS! Hints aren't the real thing! Hints don't satisfy me! Okay?! Okay okay okay?! That's all you ever said! Okay, why didn't you just stop stalling and say it?!" She bawled into his chest, his right arm hung loosely about her back, as if imitating a hug. Her cries grew hysterical, her voice pitch heightening to a screeching wail. She punched him lightly, almost playfully, in the stomach. "Where are you? Where are you now, Sanji? Do you see this, see the pain you're causing me?! It's not right, your heart should be beating. There's nothing, only silence! I don't want silence, I don't _want_ it! You're never silent around me, Sanji, I can't take it!" She cried and screamed for seconds, minutes. It turned into an hour as she intermittently sobbed and recovered again and again, trying to force herself to cope. She had never had so much trouble accepting the reality around her. She let herself lie back against the wall during the first half hour of her crying, allowing Sanji's body to slide along the beam and rest heavily against her. He didn't care anymore. He couldn't feel. She let his bloodied head lay against her chest, her fingers unceasingly stroking his neck and hair. He couldn't feel it. Those skin nerves and hair follicles didn't know any difference whether she caressed them or drove her nails into them. He didn't need a side anymore, or an unpierced heart. His left arm, which went unnoticed throughout the whole incident, lay limp on the other side of the wooden beam, almost severed from his body. Both of Sanji and Nami's clothes were now soaked with sea water and blood. She'd rather it have been a glass of red wine clumsily dumped on her, unexpectedly by Sanji, and she'd glare at him. But she would laugh now. And she'd kiss him. And ask to go to town with him to purchase a new blouse.

But reality chose blood. She wouldn't have wore the outfit again anyway, even if it could be salvaged. The whole place reeked of sea weed, blood, sweat, raw flesh, and vomit. She wanted to puke herself.

After she sat there for some time, only crying, resting, crying again, she decided she would have to get up and move on. The rest of the crew would be coming back now, if they hadn't already. She hadn't heard their voices at least. She thought it strange that no one else would try investigating the whole issue, but then again, maybe area residents and officials were awaiting the arrival of the Navy.

She hoisted Sanji off from her gently (even though he couldn't feel anything) as she slid up the wall behind her. She let him rest in the red water puddle. It seemed undignified and terrible to leave him in the state he was, but she remembered that it didn't matter. Sanji was somewhere else now, she believed. She'd request a proper funeral after getting help first. She looked at him and ran her fingers through his hair before crawling through the piles of loose boards and furniture. The mast was snapped and splintered, but it still was erect enough for her to climb on. She avoided the sharp debris as best as she could, trying to focus on getting out. But her thoughts still drifted to Sanji's words: the ones said. The ones he was allowed to say because the beam hadn't killed him instantly. His heart was still intact through it all, allowed to beat enough to talk with her, to give her eternal food for thought in place of daily table bread and meat.

The Going Merry no longer bobbed against the friendly sea waves. It was angled still from the ship that had rammed into it, still pushing into the side, propping it up from the ocean. It wasn't a large ship, but was built well. After all, it had crushed the side of Merry.

Nami crawled through the jagged opening that had once been the little hatch to the men's quarters. The starboard side of the main deck was destroyed. Planks and boards splintered at odd angles, looking like some rough, brown, crystal arrangement. There was a large group of people on the mainland and on the small remnant of the pier that hadn't been destroyed. She approached the forward of the ship.

"Hey, there! There's someone on the ship!" someone yelled. Nami looked for the source of the voice and saw someone pointing at her. She didn't recognize the man, now boarding the other ship and dangerously scaling the bow onto the shattered Merry. They ran over to her and grabbed her hands. "Miss, it's going to be alright, please, allow me to take you down to the mainland." The man picked her up gently and returned to the other ship. They walked onto the pier and towards the entrance of the bustling and startled town.

She looked around for her comrades, and saw a group struggling through the rest of the crowd. A green haired swordsman that she knew all too well appeared.

"NAMI!" He meant to race towards her, Usopp and Luffy and Chopper, finally emerged, about to follow. But they stopped and gazed at their navigator as she slowly approached them. Her hair was mangled and patchy with dried remnants of blood and vomit, the typical orange glow now looking like a deadened tan. Her clothes were soaked with what appeared to be water, but large blobs of dark red stained the majority of her clothing. Her skin was pallid and sallow. But her gait, first clumsy and slow, became confident and determined. She walked up to her crew and smiled.

"I'm glad you're all well."

They stared at her incredulously, as if she had been dead all this time with their knowing of it and she had just come back to life.

"Nami, are you okay?" Zolo took a step towards her. "We'd just heard of the accident an hour ago, and weren't aware that it was the Merry! We tried to get all the information we could, but they wouldn't let us near the ships, the Marines are on their way. We didn't know if...you guys were even on the ship." He looked at her for a moment and cleared his throat. It was as if he understood. Luffy and Usopp stared past Nami, at the ship. Chopper looked at the dirt ground. "Where's Sanji?"

Nami felt the breeze against her scraped cheeks. It had been calm just a moment before. She looked at the sky and breathed in deeply, smiling.

"I set him free."

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_Maybe it's by the words that go unsaid, the actions not done, how the way things don't work out, or the sufferings and mistakes and all the mishaps of others, that we learn to manage our own lives better, and see how we all work together in ways perhaps otherwise unseen. Maybe we really should try to forgive people their wrongdoings, their misunderstandings, and give them all second chances. Maybe that's the freedom they need to be better for next time, or to just be content in knowing that everyone's content with each other._ _It may annoy us, but maybe it means more than just us losing things because of others' selfishness. Everything happens for a reason, in some odd order of the world._

Well, that sucked. Hope your eyes didn't bleed, or your minds explode. If you don't get it, say so. You may have missed something. A lot was implied (it's more interesting that way). Have a crap-tastic day.


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